


afterlife

by gruhukens



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Purgatory Fic, does this have an impact on my desire for post-death Meg&Ruby conversation? absolutely not, will it be purgatory? probably not, will we ever find out where demons go when they actually die? probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gruhukens/pseuds/gruhukens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg closes her eyes in a warehouse carpark in Indiana and wakes up in a fucking forest. With company.</p><p> </p><p>Coda to 8x17, Goodbye Stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings** for pre-established character death. kind of? if it's life after death does it really count?? there is also some minor mention of torture but it's not graphic. 
> 
> please feel free to contact me about anything in this fic.

Meg opens her eyes, which is the first surprise.

'Fuck', she says reflexively, because she can't quite remember where she is, or what's happened, but there's bright sharp pain in her stomach which promises that something has been fucked up.

She’s disoriented: the light in her eyes is painfully bright and her lower stomach is  _screaming,_ the pain going deeper than she’s used to, even with her recent vacation at the hands of Crowley’s monkeys. It's sharp and clean but so strong it clouds her mind. She’s used to the slow burn of multiple wounds, spread further over a wide expanse of skin as she screams and screams, but – there is no noise whatsoever, and no shackles at her wrists and ankles, and although the wound is deep and throbbing it’s the only pain she can feel.

She curls in on herself and breathes. Waits for whatever's next.

She’s expecting the knife, but it doesn’t come. What does is a slow numbness that rolls over her like a wave and fades, taking the pain with it. Experimentally, she tightens and releases the muscles of her stomach. When there’s no pain, she cautiously sits up.

'Fuck,' she says again, because something's obviously gone wrong. Or right, she's not sure, because she's in the middle of a _forest_ somewhere and the last thing she remembers is Crowley’s fucking torturer and his fucking obsession with making her beg and -

But that’s not right. Because Castiel had come, and hot on his heels the plaid wonder twins, and there’d been the hunt for the angel tablet and a truly nauseating amount of emotional talk, and then fucking Crowley and his angel blade. And he’d stabbed her, straight and deep into her stomach, which meant – which meant she -

Which meant she and Castiel would never -

'Fuck,' she says, loudest and longest, and doesn't move again for a very long time.

* * *

 

'Heard there was a new arrival in town,' a voice above her says, a while later. She's not sure how long. Doesn't care. 'A demon.'

Meg cracks an eye open. There’s a dark shape looming above her.

'No demon. Sorry to be a disappointment. You're looking at the new Miss America.'

'Ha ha,' says the voice, without humour. 'I'm sure the werewolves a half-mile away will find you just as amusing.'

Meg laughs and closes her eye again. ‘It’s been a long time since I couldn’t handle a pack of mongrels.’

'Okay then,' says the voice. 'Well, if you deal with the werewolves, there's a nest of vampires fifteen minutes away to the west. And a gathering of wraiths to the north. And just a way down south is Alistair's domain, and fuck knows he's going to be interested in the island's new castaway.'

Meg opens her eyes properly, and the shape solidifies into an unfamiliar young woman. Dark haired. Pretty. There’s a demon behind her face, but Meg doesn’t recognise them either.

'No fucking way,' she says. 'Alistair died.'

The woman crouches to her level.

'Sorry to break it to you honey, but so did you.'

* * *

 

Meg quickly finds out that she is indeed dead, and consequentially the newest inhabitant of some kind of monster heaven. The news fills her with a low, dull ache in the pit of her stomach, but she’s more interested in the revelation that her friendly neighbourhood demon is actually Ruby.

‘ _You’re_ Ruby? Lilith’s bitch? The one who cracked the cage open? You let Lucifer out?’

Ruby grimaces. They’re walking fast through shaded woodland, making for an area Ruby promises is safer. Meg doesn’t trust her, but she also doesn’t care, and she’s pretty sure she can take Ruby down in less time than it takes to blink. She’s also, admittedly, fucking curious.

'Guilty as charged,' Ruby says. 'Nice fucking job with that, by the way. I heard bits and pieces from demons passing through, enough to know that you guys fucked the whole thing up. What the hell happened?'

Meg rolls her eyes.

'Your hunter  _boyfriend_ is what happened.’ She ducks a low branch. ‘Lucifer wore him, Sam threw them both back into the pit. Michael too: that bit was nice.’

Ruby stops dead. Meg turns to look. Ruby’s eyes are wide and her skin is pale. Meg thinks, idly, she’s never met a demon so tied to their meatsuit, to humanity, to more than demonkind, before. Well, hadn’t. She’s more familiar with the feeling than she’d like to be, these days.

'He what,' Ruby says, and there's a tinge of panic to her voice. 'He  _what_.’

Meg shrugs, and starts walking again.

'Our Father wanted the Winchester kid for his meatsuit, before the big party. He was doing pretty well until Saint Mike decided he wanted to have some kind of big celestial pissing contest. Sam says yes, but brother elder shows up and their big, incestuous love gives him the opportunity to chuck himself into the cage, taking Dad and Uncle Michael with them.'

Ruby runs to catch up.

'Sam is in the cage? Sam Winchester is in the cage? For how long? Oh my god, fucking  _angels._ ’

Despite herself, Meg snaps, ‘Hey, not all of them are douchebags. Your precious Sam got a ride out of there from one of those  _fucking angels.’_

Ruby snorts, but her shoulders relax. ‘Must have been some fucking angel. All those feathered freaks are only out for themselves, or too scared to stop following orders. Like Dean’s shadow – the dark-haired guy, I can’t remember. Cassiel?’

Meg slows, and looks away. Her voice is rough. ‘Actually, yeah. It was him.’

The silence that follows is uncomfortable. Meg speeds up, but she can still feel Ruby’s eyes on her. She plays with her sleeve, and then the hem of her shirt.

'Oh, screw you, Winchester-fucker,' she mutters, when she can't bear it any more.

Ruby doesn’t say anything. They walk on. Meg’s eyes sting, and she feels numb, and tries not to think about anything.

After a short while. Ruby takes her softly by the arm, and they both stop. ‘We’ll be safe here, for a while,’ Ruby says.

It’s beautiful. They stand on a cliff overlooking a vast, green forest, cut through with shining rivers, lit by a setting sun, And Meg knows it’s beautiful, objectively, but she can  _feel_ it in a way she hasn’t been able to feel for centuries, in a way that pushes past the constant scream of hell and hate in her chest, and she doesn’t know what it means but it  _scares_ her.

Meg starts at the sound of Ruby’s voice.

'You know, I always thought when I got out that this was all there is,' Ruby says, and she sits down, touches her forehead gently, where the demon face lies writhing just beneath the human one. 'The memory of hell, the driving force of all that hate and pain and fear, that complete obedience to our father. But here we are, talking about – softer things. Quieter things.'

Meg swallows, and folds to her knees. Ruby continues, and her voice is softer now, more uncertain. ‘You know, I hated everything when I got out. I hated it for not having been to the same place that I had, for not suffering the same way I did, for getting off when I spent all those years downstairs. But I – with Sam-’ Ruby’s talking faster.. ‘It’s a surprise, isn’t it. Love, in the place of all that hate.’

'Yeah,' Meg says, reluctantly. She wraps her arms around her legs.

'You know, I was so sure -' says Ruby. 'So sure I'd forgotten how.'

Meg lifts her chin. Stares at the sky above, remembers blue eyes and dark hair and the light shining so bright, just beneath the skin. Glorious.

'Me too,' she says, and she closes her eyes next to Ruby, thinks of unicorns and apocalypses and his hands, so gentle, wrapped around hers, and his voice –  _it’s a good memory –_ whisper-soft, like a secret. ‘Me too.’

 


End file.
